


as a car crash

by hazythorn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Actually Terushima is a LOT of things a real go-getter jack of all trades, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Band Yamaguchi Tadashi, College, Coming of Age, Confused Yamaguchi Tadashi, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, Gay, Growing Apart, Growing Up, M/M, Mafioso Terushima, Multi, Other, Punk Yamaguchi Tadashi, Self destructing, The Angst-to-Comfort Journey is long suffering, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Tension, Unresolved anger, queer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 21:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazythorn/pseuds/hazythorn
Summary: Yamaguchi is going to be the best version of himself god dammit.When an earth-shattering argument turns into two months of licking his wounds, he decided to make an honorable attempt at distancing himself from the version of him he so despises. Stuck now in limbo between that him and the one he desperately want to be, he finds it difficult not to be swept up in self-loathing and confusion.To make matters worse and further complicate this situation; Terushima Yuuji. The fool in shining armor that enjoys toying with him a little too much to be healthy, who has the pleasure of entering Yamaguchi's life at his most vulnerable point.And it's not just him wreaking havoc on Yamaguchi's personal life, he's also got a confusing (ex?) best friend and a myriad of others who are supportive, encouraging, and - bless their hearts - completely unhelpful.Including that in his struggle to carve out a life he'll find worth living...it's, not shaping up to be very easy. But it's fascinating in it's own terrible way - as captivating as a car crash.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Shimizu Kiyoko/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Terushima Yuuji/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	as a car crash

**Author's Note:**

> pls be nice this is my first story im posting and I'm so senstivite it's CRAZY - still tell me how u like it though! I can't commit to a regular posting updating schedule but I tend to write when I'm sad/upset/stressed so if the updates ramp up that'll give you a clue as to how my life is progressing.  
> Okay enough oversharing here's this :P

The last train leaving the city was peeling out of the station as Yamaguchi jogged down the steps from the platform.

He glanced over his shoulder when it dinged once, twice, to signal its departure. He shoved his hands in his pockets, shivering as the wind picked up. Gusts displaced by the racing flashes of shining steel pushed his hair back like the train was doting on him, wishing him well as it began its journey to the depot.

In the darkened windows of the unused cars, there was a perfect reflection of the blue light emanating from the midnight city the train so hastily rushed away from.

Yamaguchi turned his head forwards then, curling his hands into fists as cold crept under the heavy material of his jacket. It was just baggy enough the wind could sneak in and curl against his skin, enough to make him shiver.

The cold steel encircling his lower lip did nothing to help his chattering teeth; he hadn't yet gotten used to how the piercing retained the chill of the night air. He ran his tongue over the metal and the still slightly sensitive skin, before pulling his mask up to cover his nose.

He exhaled. The mask was like a barrier. A safety net. Its comfortable snugness reassured and emboldened him, or at least he tried to trick himself into thinking so. Once he stopped fussing with the straps, his hair, he had no excuse to not take in the scene playing out before him.

Friday nights always tripped him up on Fuchsia Boulevard, because there were just as many bodies filling the streets now, at twelve, as there had been at ten that morning. But that was where the similarities ended between the midmorning and midnight crowds .

There was no sunlight to cast upon them. The only thing providing them with any illumination were the neons, and whatever strobes spilled out of the clubs. The lighting brazenly painted the alleyways hues of soft pink, vibrant red, electric teal, each brilliant ray accompanied by a different kind of music. There was a swirling tornado of house, EDM, techno that ran up and down the streets past his ears, creating it's own unique energy as it seeped into the skin. It made everyone feel light, made them feel energized and anticipatory.

Or maybe that was just him. And maybe it was the cloud of smoke he'd just walked through that had made him feel that.

Either way, the closer he got to the thick of the mess, he felt himself lightening up. His eyes reflected the xenon blue they drank in, spots dancing from how wide he stared at the flashing signs.

He pushed his mask up the bridge of his nose, teeth mindlessly tugging on his lip ring underneath as his attention was pulled from the neons. He stepped sideways, maneuvering between two groups of people laughing, leaning against their motorcycles, and sharing open bottles.

The club he was passing had huge glass windows with dancers on the inside, their hands pressed delicately on the glass as they slowly posed themselves, flowy sensual movements riding the beat of whatever song Yamaguchi had momentarily lost track of.

One of the girls caught his eye, pressing her blue lips to the glass, leaving behind a cobalt kiss mark as she smiled at him, her winking sapphire eyes reflecting, sharing, the same neon glow as his.

Yamaguchi tore his eyes from her as her hands travelled down her sparkling bustier and he turned to focus on the names of the clubs as he neared the thick of things. 

It was harder to do than he'd been anticipating – and not because of his memory or anything, he remembered Suga's instructions exactly, telling him to meet them at Club Ivy at twelve. That part was clear as day.

What wasn't clear was his head.

So many people brushed past, their shoulders bumping into him, hands lightly pressing against his back as he waded through the crowd. Mumbled pardons, cheerful smiles as he excused himself. The temperature had gone up by at least five degrees since he'd entered the crowd, but it wasn't an uncomfortable heat.

He relaxed his tight muscles, let the oversized jean jacket slip down his shoulders to increase the contact the night air had with his skin.

It was all so much easier to handle then he had thought it would be. Everything seemed so new, so exciting, and there was none of the suffocation he had so dreaded, expected even. What had he been so worried about?

A lump formed in his throat. Why'd he have to go and think about that? Because now, once you think about that, then you think...you think about why. You think about why you were so nervous to come. Why you're here alone. Why there's no one to wade through the crowd with you.

Yamaguchi's left hand felt really cold then, really cold, and small, and un-held.

He shook his wrist out, brushing past another larger group and hooking a right to pop into the alley between a bar and another, darker building. There were a few people loitering, some leaning against the walls with bottles casually hanging from between their fingers, a few couples interlocked like the alley wasn't confining enough a space.

He lit a cigarette, leaning his bare shoulders against the wall and feeling a slight jolt from the cold than ran like a tremor passed from the concrete through his body. It was a welcome relief, as was the burning smoke settling in his throat.

It wasn't suffocating to be alone. Not anymore. He'd struck out to prove that to himself tonight, that he could handle both new and individual experiences as well as familiar faces and expectations.

But it was still...not as alright as he wanted it to be. He wasn't as all right as he wanted himself to be. 

He tried to not get lost in disappointment, which he knew to be debilitating should he let it fester – tonight was a part of his plan to fix that oxymoron of agoraphobic loneliness. A part of his plan to establish himself as a functional solo act.

"There you a– Tashi! Hey, yo, Ta-da-SHI!"

Well, a sort-of solo act.

Yamaguchi glanced around, red-faced from coughing when the voice caught him off guard. Who had yelled, who but –

"Koshi, yo!" He waved back, tossing the cigarette he'd barely had a chance to press his lips against into a patch of grass and jogging up to the man waving at the mouth of the alleyway.

The closer he got to Sugawara, the more details his straining eyes could easily fill in. Suga's smile, the sparkling studs in his ears, the angular cut to the cropped shirt he was wearing that exposed his stomach to the cerulean light bathing everything that wasn't a shadow.

"Hey!" Suga greeted him with a grin, throwing his arm around Yamaguchi's shoulder and pulling him down to ruffle his hair "Didn't you get the memo, you're supposed to stop growing in high school."

"And you're supposed to lay off the caffeine if you don't wanna shrink."

"Oh that's real – hold up."

Suga interrupted himself, eyes widening as he reached up to grab Yamaguchi's chin in his hand, pulling his face closer.

"What the fuck is this?"

"It's a ring," Yamaguchi played dumb and jerked his head back, avoiding Suga's fingers "watch the grabbing, sheesh. It's still sore, I'm getting used to it."

"You joined the club!" Suga seemed proud "Did you go to that guy I told you, Yaku?"

"Who? Nope! I didn't, I just–" Yamaguchi tugged on the other side of his mouth and mimed sticking a needle through his lip, barely able to hold back a laugh when Suga's face contorted out of horror.

"You did not," Suga was mortified "you're fucking with me."

Yamaguchi shook his head no, holding Suga's eyes for a moment. A breathe. Five seconds. Then the eye contact became too much, and a painful grin broke out.

"Totally fucking with you– "

"Oh, Jesus, don't do that," Suga put a hand to his chest, thumping it and wincing "that's so sketchy. You've gotta be responsible if you want body mods, Yamaguchi, they're more than just fun pieces of metal."

"Why're you telling me this after I say I was joking?" Yamaguchi protested "And why are we still outside? I'm gonna freeze."

"Alright, pipe down, you don't see me complaining," Suga said pointedly, putting his hands on his hips.

Yamaguchi's eyes followed Suga's hands down from his waste to his black shorts. They sat low enough on his hips Yamaguchi saw the band of Suga's boxers, and high enough that, well, that Yamaguchi pulled his head back up immediately.

"Suga it's February, what the hell," he said, only half-joking as he looked anywhere else, trying to convince himself he wasn't two more seconds from blushing.

"Don't you start on me, hypocrite," Suga poked Yamaguchi's stomach before he turned to chart a course through the crowd "can't tell your senior how to dress."

"I can when I'm wearing pants," Yamaguchi murmured, following Suga's path, wading through people with a small smile and averting his eyes when he cut it close to bumping anyone.

Suga carried himself with confidence, confidence in himself and his calm presence. Which was great, especially when someone gave Yamaguchi a hard time and he wasn't capable of finding the words to stand up for himself, or deescalate the situation.

But when he was trying to politely make his way through a crowd...it was a nightmare.

"Sorry, 'scuse us," Yamaguchi apologized to some guy he'd bumped shoulders with "Koshi, chill out!"

"I left Ennoshita all on his lonesome, I gotta hurry b – HEY, CHIKARA!"

Suga waved at a guy in black tech-gear type pants and a baggy black shirt who was loitering near a lamppost, arms folded over his chest. A passive glance might've led an onlooker to think his tattoo sleeves were fabric, but Yamaguchi knew better.

Ennoshita pulled his head up, tilting his chin up to see them from under the brim of his baseball cap. He nodded his head at Suga and cracked a grin at Yamaguchi when they got close.

"What's up Tashi?" He held his hand out, grabbing Yamaguchi's and pulling him into a tight hug.

"Not much, Chika," Yamaguchi said, slapping his shoulder and stepping back – he could play the dumb nicknames game all night long "he paying you? You're dressed like a bodyguard."

"Paying me?" Ennoshita glanced at Suga "'S a good point, damn maybe I should charge. How drunk you planning on getting Koshi?"

"Why's everyone talking like I'm not older, smarter, and more capable of kicking their asses?" Suga wondered, glancing past the two of them towards the line to get into the club "But uh, hey mister bodyguard, you didn't take care of our cover by any chance, did you?"

Ennoshita shook his head, smiling to himself and pulling the baseball cap up off his head, running a hand over his short, buzzed hair "Yeah, took care of it. Guy said he'd give me it back if I could bring girls in instead, too bad I just have you two." He pulled the cap back over his head, sinking it low so it shadowed his face.

"Why're you dressed like secret services?" Yamaguchi pressed "Seriously, you look like you got off...oh."

"Got off a shift? Yeah, twenty minutes ago."

"Oh," Yamaguchi repeated, wincing "we're going out after you worked already?"

"I work every night, don't sweat it," Ennoshita pulled his arms up, reaching out to drop them on Yamaguchi's shoulders and shake him around a little "it's not every night the friend who ghosted us for two months can hang out. That we should be so honored, be still my heart."

"I texted you!" Yamaguchi said in self-defense "Just...I was, busy."

"No sweat, man, I'm just glad to see you. And Suga...shit, Suga," they both glanced around to see he'd crept towards the front of the line "well, him too." Ennoshita said as he and Yamaguchi turned to follow their friend "You planning on waiting for us?" He asked, elbowing Suga in the side.

"Less fraternizing in the cold, lets get a table and catch up where there's less wind," Suga said, wrapping his arms around himself as they neared the security guard "Hello!"

The guard glanced over Suga and Yamaguchi to Ennoshita, and some understanding passed between the two as Ennoshita slung an arm around Yamaguchi's shoulder, his other around Suga's, and steered them towards the entrance.

"You guys been here before?" Ennoshita asked as they came up to the double doors, black with silver accents and ornate patterns swirling across the front. 

Two men in dark suits opened the doors for them, eyes hidden by chunky shades, earpieces tucked in and around their right ears, heads constantly turning, glancing, doing their security guard thing.

"Yep!" from Suga.

"Nope," from Yamaguchi. 

The entrance hall was soundproofed, dead ending in another set of impressive double doors, but a thudding sound still managed to permeate the barrier and seep into the room. The ceiling was high, and two dim but dazzling crystal chandeliers hung from it. Beneath them lay rolled out a royal purple carpet that felt soft even through Yamaguchi's vans.

Lining the hall were more men in suits, but as he blinked and his eyes adjusted Yamaguchi realized they weren't wearing jackets, or shirts. Their suspenders hugged their bare skin, bowties neatly secured around their necks. And in their hands were small bottles, with little droppers sticking out of them.

"Kay, since you haven't been, you go up to one of the waiters. Push out your tongue," Ennoshita stuck his tongue out at Yamaguchi, then added "but only if you want."

Yamaguchi, immediately curious, pulled out from under Ennoshita's grip to look up at the nearest attendant. The attendant smiled, and raised his eyebrows and his hands, offering.

Yamaguchi nodded his head, stepping closer to the waiter and parting his lips, pushing his tongue out.

"Tip your head back," the attendant's voice was deep, and it gave Yamaguchi shivers. Shivers that worsened five seconds later when he leaned in and his palm brushed Yamaguchi's lower lip. He squeezed a few drops of whatever was in the bottle down Yamaguchi's throat.

Yamaguchi swallowed, tasting something like citrus and iron followed by the familiar burn of alcohol. The combination made him shudder, his shoulders spasming as he sniffed, lightly shaking his head.

"Have a wonderful evening," the attendant bade him, offering a smile as he stepped back into the alcove he was stationed at, shadow closing in around him once again.

Yamaguchi blindly reached a hand behind himself, searching for Ennoshita's arm and pulling himself back to the group when he found it. He saw Suga laughing as the waiter he was standing with brushed his thumb over Suga's cheek.

"Oi, Koshi," Ennoshita jerked his head, beckoning Suga over "haven't even made it in the door, dude. Leave the poor guy alone, he's gotta do his job."

"I was curious what chemicals I was ingesting!" Suga defended himself, then glanced up to the last set of double doors at the end of the hall "Didn't really say."

"They're just, like seventy five percent filler, super diluted lysergic acid," Ennoshita said "all the clubs around here offer it at the opening, not enough to be even close to lethal. And," when they got to the door at the end, each bodyguard produced a roll of stickers "they do this to make sure they can identify who's taken it."

"Lysergic?" Yamaguchi frowned "Where've I heard that before?"

"Anti-drug PSA's?" Suga offered.

"Yeah, I can live with leaving it at that," Yamaguchi said, nodding his head.

The bodyguard pulled one of the pale blue, star-shaped stickers off the roll and gently reached for Yamaguchi's neck, pressing the sticker right over the vein you'd check if looking for a pulse.

"Before entry into the Ivy there are a couple things to get out of the way," The bodyguard said as he stepped back to grab his door handle "If you experience photosensitivity or allergic aversion to anything you've ingested please let anyone working know and we will immediately assist you. Any accidents that occur on Ivy property fall under your own personal liability and the Ivy cannot be held responsible. Verbally, please confirm for the camera that you understand these instructions and conditions as I have told them to you." The waiter recited, pointing at a camera situated over the doorway.

"Shouldn't you run through this before the LSD?"

"Suga..."

"What? I'm just - nevermind."

The three of them turned to the camera, repeating in near synchronicity:

"I understand."

"Great," The bodyguard nodded "have a wonderful night at the Ivy."

Yamaguchi's arm fell away from Ennoshita. He wanted to experience this himself, and it seemed his companions had the same idea. The two guards pulled the final set of double-doors open, revealing an altered reality, a shifted universe.

Upon entrance, his eardrums were immediately bombarded with all the sounds of a nightclub, the music flooding his senses to disorient him even more than he'd already begun to feel. But compounding on that confusion were the curtains.

They'd walked out onto a square of glowing white tiles, completely surrounded by layer upon layer of gossamer fabric hanging down in shimmering curtains. These curtains were lit up from floor-mounted lights that slowly rotated through shades of blue, pink, and purple. That aspect, plus how the curtains billowed due to mounted fans hoisted somewhere above them, created an ethereal, fantastical limbo; as if they were surrounded by a swarm of jellyfish, billowing curtains brushing to touch their arms, legs, like tentacles minus the toxins. That was just as well; they'd already had their fair share of poison.

"Woah," Yamaguchi said, mostly to himself as the music seemed to drown out everything else.

He reached out a hand, compulsion overriding his senses, knowing nothing but need to push through the curtains, to see what lay beyond. But the second he took a step down, he felt someone gripping his arm.

"Ah ah ah, no way, I'm not doing the hunt-you-down-after-you-wander-off thing, night's too young," Ennoshita's voice in his ear was reassuring, grounding, and Yamaguchi nodded his head.

Ennoshita swung right to grab Suga, once again wrapping his arms around their shoulders.

Yamaguchi's jean jacket fell to his elbows, and he pulled closer to Ennoshita's side as they walked down the steps together, blinking as they passed through the thick barrage of gossamer.

Little rhinestones were beaded in with some of the fabric, as well as a strings of crystals and strands of fake – or possibly real – ivy hanging from the ceiling. When Yamaguchi passed through the soft fabric, he heard a tinkling by his ears that somehow superseded the thrum of the music.

Or maybe he just imagined it. Imagined some magical, wonderful sound as he passed through the barrier separating them from the dance floor.

As Yamaguchi pushed asides the last of the surprisingly heavy curtains with his hand, his eyes widened in awe at the sight awaiting him.

They were overlooking the base level of the club, a gigantic dance floor spreading out on either side of the platform they were staring out from. The blacklights encircling the dancers from above made them glow, every movement leaving behind a chemtrail of neon color like the dancers were radiant, like they'd been soaked in radioactive chemicals.

There was a lighted aisleway, the same glowing white tiles as they were standing on now, that lead them between both dance floors towards an expansive bar area. Beyond that two large staircases lead up to a mezzanine level, guarded by security.

Yamaguchi's eyes glanced up at the much more sparsely populated booths and private rooms. V.I.P.

It lost his attention almost immediately. He hadn't come out here, gathered his courage, to go hide in another room.

Between the staircases looked like an open-air area that spilled out into a street where people were congregating to escape sweltering heat, or to have a smoke.

Yamaguchi shook his head once, trying to clear out the error message pop-ups his overstimulated brain was throwing on the backs of his eyes. Some something caught his gaze then, and he glanced up at the ceiling.

Where hanging from the rafters of the industrial building were thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of clouds. 

Lit up with purple and blue light they looked like floating swaths of cotton candy frozen in midair. They glistened, as if embedded in the clouds were diamonds, or perhaps more crystals? What, could possibly make that? How did the clouds look so...

"Woah," Yamaguchi whispered, still close to Ennoshita's side. Close enough to get his attention.

"Yeah," Ennoshita said, glancing up at the clouds for half a second and not appearing to give much of a shit "you guys ready for a drink?"

"Sounds good!" Suga grinned, untangling his arm from Ennoshita's and taking his steps towards the bar with ease.

Yamaguchi wasn't there yet, in terms of confidence. Yes, okay, he was trying to push his limits. But this...even for the new and improved him, this was going to need some adjusting. His internal systems updates were taking a while to integrate.

"You're doing fine."

He blinked, unaware he'd drifted off to look at the clouds again, and turned his head to meet Ennoshita's eyes as they started down the stairs.

"I mean," Ennoshita leaned in to Yamaguchi's ear "I don't hear from you in forever, first time I see Tashi the introvert it's at a club? What'd you do with my boy?"

Yamaguchi grinned at that, shrugging, and leaned towards Ennoshita "I'm trying to get that asshole to loosen up!"

"Hey, watch it!" Ennoshita called back, and after the last step he jostled Yamaguchi, shoving his shoulder "I like old Tadashi too, 'kay?"

Yamaguchi waved him off with a hand, pulling one of the arms of his jean jacket over his shoulder as he searched out Suga's silver head of hair.

He found him fast, but not fast enough it would appear.

Suga was leaned over the bar, resting his weight on his forearms and chatting with the bartender, whose forehead was practically pressed to Suga's neck in order to hear him.

"Hey, is," Yamaguchi turned back to Ennoshita, grabbing his arm and pulling him in to yell "is Suga...he and Daichi, like...are they, okay?"

Ennoshita frowned, scrunching up his nose and glancing at the bar.

Yamaguchi followed his gaze back to Suga's smile, his eyes blinking up at the bartender preparing three drinks in front of him. Suga walked the line with ease, looking earnest but not too earnest; he was the definition of balance between bubbly and reserved. And while it made him easy to get along with, christ almighty did it make him hard to read.

"He's not doing so hot," Ennoshita finally responded, startling Yamaguchi with his yell "shit, sorry. Nah, he...you notice I didn't take any when we got in." Ennoshita jerked his head to get Yamaguchi walking again "I'm worried, but...tell you later. Long two months!"

He said the last line with a smile, but Yamaguchi took it incredibly more serious than it had been intended.

Who had he missed the opportunity to help by being so obsessed with himself?

He stepped up to the bar with that question rolling around in his head. Ennoshita came up behind Suga, bumping his fist on Suga's shoulder and being acknowledged with a stuck-out tongue.

Suga picked up his drink and turned just a little farther back to see Yamaguchi, motioning him over.

Yamaguchi slid between the two of them to reach for the remaining glass on the counter. It was a tall cylinder, but not very wide, and the liquid it was full of was clear, catching the purple and blue light that flashed above them. Ripples spread out as the bass traveled up the bar to reverberate through the glass.

That was, until Yamaguchi picked it up, cheers-ed with his friends, and threw his head back, letting whatever it was – ack, tequila – slide down his throat.

"Shit, Koshi," he coughed, blinking and tossing his head slightly "how much was that?"

Instead of raising his voice to yell back, Sugawara grinned, holding up three fingers.

Three, fingers?

Yamaguchi's mouth fell open as he realized the gravity of his actions, and three seconds later he was laughing with Suga at his lack of foresight.

"Fuck," he shook his head, shrugging his jacket back to his elbows and glancing out over the dance floor as Suga kept the glass pressed to his lips, having had the foresight to moderate how much he drank at a time.

"Mm!"

Barely a second after the song changed to something Yamaguchi vaguely recognized, Suga's eyes flew open, and he downed the rest of his drink, slamming it back on the counter. He turned to grab Yamaguchi's hand, mouthing 'This one!'

Yamaguchi understood, and turned to Ennoshita who was already looking at the two of them, expectant. He held his hand out, motioning with two fingers for Yamaguchi to hand him his jacket.

"Feel like I'm totally making you babysit me," Yamaguchi said into his ear as he handed it over.

"You're fine, I'd expected it," Ennoshita said, glancing over at Suga while he threw Yamaguchi's jacket over his shoulders.

"You'll be miserable if you don't dance!" Yamaguchi insisted, reaching to tug on Ennoshita's arm "Come with us?"

Ennoshita snorted, and shook his head, throwing his head at the dance floor like he was encouraging Yamaguchi to go.

Yamaguchi frowned, feeling wrong about the whole situation, and stayed put.

Ennoshita blinked once, then again, then a smile briefly flitted across his face, and he mouthed 'Dude,' and tried to subtly glance over his shoulder.

Yamaguchi's eyes followed where he was looking and...ah. The puzzle pieces clicked into place.

Sitting besides him at another stool was a girl in a sleeveless purple dress, her pin-straight hair falling everywhere, two silver clips the only thing keeping it out of her face. She was not so subtly eyeing the tattoos running up Ennoshita's bicep and under his shirt sleeve.

Yamaguchi mouthed 'oh' and nodded his approval at Ennoshita, turning back to Suga who was edging closer to the dance floor by the second.

Suga grabbed Yamaguchi's hand, pulling him close as he walked backward, an ear-to-ear smile somehow lighting up the dark room in a way blacklights could never. Hell, floodlights could never.

Yamaguchi couldn't help but grin, wide enough his cheeks hurt; Suga's effervescent happiness remained, as always, contagious. Suga lead him through the outskirts of the dance floor towards a small break in the crowd where they could dance without being squished between other people.

Granted, being pressed against a bunch of people unaware of whose hands were grabbing you was a great feeling that shouldn't be dismissed. But dancing with Sugawara was so much more fun.

For one, Suga could dance. Like, dance, dance. He led like a professional, and as Yamaguchi placed his hands in Suga's he felt excited, his nerves diminishing to nonexistence. And for two...well.

The rhythm of the song started to pick up again, and Suga pulled him close. Yamaguchi wrapped one arm over Suga's shoulder, Suga gripping his other wrist, and they began to move in slow circles guided by their hips.

"Oh no, an out of practice Tadashi?" Suga feigned horror "What of my poor feet?"

"If I step on 'em it's intentional."

Suga laughed, and started to push one foot forwards, leading Yamaguchi to counter his movements; stepping back, to the side, tapping his feet in rhythm.

It felt so good, to solely focus on only moving right, keeping his body from halting, and thinking only of constant, fluid motion. Dancing did that, it cleared your head.

Except, for that one thought that would never clear. Man, why haven't I done this in so long?

But despite its presence, Yamaguchi was able to ignore those thoughts as Suga pulled away, releasing his hand, and spinning him out to the side. Their footwork shifted slightly before Yamaguchi was pulled back in, their clasped hands pushed between their chests.

The tempo seemed to climb, and so with it the intensity. Suga's hand had slid down from Yamaguchi's shoulder to his waist, and Yamaguchi pulled himself in by his hips in sync with the rhythm of the song.

And that was the dangerous part, because it felt right for the dance. It felt right, Suga felt right, and his body felt right, but...for half a second, he wasn't dancing with his friend.

His eyes looked up to meet Suga's, and the realization passed between the both of them at the same time.

Suga's grip loosened ever so slightly, and Yamaguchi pushed himself away by maybe half a centimeter.

It felt, though...somehow it felt...

Yamaguchi pivoted on his heel to turn out, like they'd done before, but this time Suga pulled his waist so Yamaguchi pivoted a full 180, pressed with his back to Suga's chest. His breathe caught for a second when he looked back to see Suga's face behind his.

Then Suga smiled, a sure, quick smile, and Yamaguchi snapped out of it.

'Friend, this is your friend,' he chided himself, getting used to the rhythm of following Suga's footsteps from the other direction. He pressed back against Suga's chest and carefully brought a hand up to Suga's neck, steadying himself as Suga's hands guided him from around his waist 'Are you so touch starved that you'd forgotten friends can dance?'

The answer embarrassed him.

Suga's smile never left, but it changed as he mouthed the lyrics – this really was one of his favorite songs, he hadn't been just faking glee to get out on the dancefloor. That face made Yamaguchi smile too, and he bumped his forehead against Suga's cheek for a brief second, hoping that got across his message. 'I'm happy to see you happy.'

Suga slid to his side, pivoting his grip to pull Yamaguchi's chest to his again.

"Don't headbutt!" Suga yelled, mouth nearly pressed to Yamaguchi's ear "Rude, and not very sexy!"

"Oh, so sorry!" Yamaguchi called back, bringing his arms up to Suga's neck as quickly as he could to maintain a smooth transition, pleased when they flawlessly moved back to their stepping with ease.

"If you've got the energy to taunt me," Suga's eyes seemed to flash, as his smile twisted, morphing into more of a smirk "I'm giving you too much time to think."

Yamaguchi barely had a moment to process his words before Sugawara slid one of his legs between Yamaguchi's, his grip slightly slipping on Yamaguchi's waist like he was letting him slide back.

Yamaguchi understood what he was doing a second after it had happened, after Suga had started to lead with his knee, curving his hip in to grind against Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi was sure his face reflected his surprise, because Suga tossed his head back, laughing before leaning in, pressing his cheek to Yamaguchi's.

"C'mon, you gotta move too Tashi," he teased with his lips against his ear "I'm not doing all the work."

Yamaguchi didn't have the energy to yell back at him, focusing instead on reading Suga's movements and letting his hips get pulled in, rolling side to side in the figure eight like Suga had taught him at, what, was it at that wedding they'd gone to? When had Suga started to teach him?

When was the last time they'd danced together?

Too long, Yamaguchi decided as he felt his face burn. Too long, because he really shouldn't be getting this flustered from dancing with one of his oldest friends.

And yet, every time Suga's knee ever so lightly pressed the inside of his thigh, Yamaguchi felt his tongue drying out in his mouth. Swallowing became incredibly difficult.

When Suga stepped his leg back and to the side, returning to the baseline dancing, Yamaguchi let out a breathe he hadn't been aware he was holding in.

The song was nearing the end, and although a small worn-out part of him was relieved, a larger part of him was crestfallen. It wasn't common for clubs like this one to play reggaetón, which was a truly godless and harsh reality. He didn't know if he'd get the chance to dance with Suga again, at least not like this.

And there was something really, really wonderful about this. That something was what drove the relieved part of his brain – emotionally, he couldn't take much more of that something.

In a sudden movement, Suga slid his hands down from Yamaguchi's waste to the hooks in his jeans, pulling him as close as possible as they pressed together.

Yamaguchi's grip around his shoulders tightened, and he didn't mean to exhale and inhale so heavy, but his body went into manual override as Suga guided his hips in, riding out the last of the song together as the DJ prepared a transition into something lively, but not anywhere near as sensational.

"Suga," Yamaguchi breathed, hard, his forehead falling to Suga's shoulder as he lightly pounded a fist against Suga's chest "y-, bastard!"

Suga laughed, and Yamaguchi couldn't hear it as well as he felt it, the vibrations passing from Suga's chest to his.

"Awe, too intense for Tashi?" Suga asked, heaping onto the problem by placing a quick peck on Yamaguchi's neck, hands sliding back up to his waist.

"I'm serious," Yamaguchi warned "I'll fall for you, don't play with me. Out of spite, I'll do it." He was only joking on the outside. On the inside...he was running low on fire extinguishers as his rationality fought the explosion going on in his brain.

He pulled back to see Suga grinning, then nodding his head back to bar like 'let's go.' He didn't want to leave Ennoshita all alone for too long, pretty girl or no.

Yamaguchi tried to forcibly remove himself from his daze as he followed Suga's gray hair through the crowd, weaving between groups of dancing people to ease back to the bar.

"Hey, those were some fuckin' moves Koshi!" Ennoshita grinned, and Yamaguchi was endlessly embarrassed by how they pounded fists at that "We were watching." He nodded his chin at the stool next to him, the girl facing them with one arm resting on the bar. She nodded vigorously, sipping something blended, pink, served in a big glass.

The sight of liquid made Yamaguchi's dry mouth worsen, and he put an absent hand to his throat while Suga grinned, tilting his head up with pride.

"Hopefully not just you!" He said, leaning in front of Yamaguchi to talk to Ennoshita.

"Oh, trust me," Ennoshita put his hands up to emphasize his severity "you got that attention you wanted all right."

"Yes!"

"What, you used me?" Yamaguchi put a hand to his heart, leaning in to Suga's ear "Ouch – once again – you bastard."

"Ah, you're welcome, best dance of your life," Suga argued, grinning as he turned in his seat to search out the bartender "c'mon, while I'm still buying my own drinks let me get you one too, partner."

And while that might've sounded conceited coming from anyone else, the way Suga said it was so matter-of-fact it was almost like he didn't even mean it. Like he was just noting something about himself, near apathetic over the fact that he could draw the eyes of the whole room if he so desired.

Yamaguchi restrained himself from giving Suga the wasted 'you don't know how fucking awesome you are' talk because he didn't think he'd earned that right just yet. Or at least he wasn't drunk enough to try it.

But when he sat there, his finger pausing it's tracing of the rim of his glass to watch Suga chatting with a stranger that had stopped to order drinks and never left, he felt something in his stomach.

He had to turn away from the two of them, had to look down into his drink.

He didn't think it was jealousy, but if it was it wasn't earned yet and he should feel ashamed. Not that he had any control over what he felt in the first place.

It just...bothered him. That Sugawara had the ability to fall into casual conversation so easily, flash his winning smile, make everyone around him feel wonderful and special and necessary and...

Yamaguchi frowned, sliding his hand down to grasp his glass.

He couldn't tell where it was directed, but he could identify the jealousy. It tasted like cherry flavored cough syrup, and it stayed dormant in his lungs until something caused it to flare up. The taste of that poison was now searing through his esophagus, choking him.

Was he jealous of the attention Suga was getting, the attention Suga was giving, or...just, jealous of Suga?

He wondered about that, for as long as complex thought stuck with him. But that was usually one of the first vestiges of sobriety to leave him after the fourth drink, so he wasn't burdened by self-awareness much longer.

As the night wore on, after a few more dances and a few more drinks with a few more people, Yamaguchi felt himself slipping. Actually, he could pinpoint the exact moment the switch flipped, the exact 'uh-oh' that had been his undoing.

He had been sitting at the bar, downing the rest of his something (it didn't have any taste, which probaly should've worried him but he was just grateful it didn't make him feel nauseous). His face was still warm from the remnants of the smile he'd worn when the last person he'd danced with had placed a kiss on his shoulder. They were gone now, which was too bad, leaving him to think about how before tonight, he'd been someone that not a lot of people liked. At least not at the start. He'd been a blank slate, who struggled with communicating even the most basic of sentiments.

And he should've been thinking, 'gee, I really have grown haven't I? I'm doing it, I'm forcing my horizens to broaden. Would ya look at that.'

But all he could think about was 'It's like you'll just do, whatever. You don't have any passion, Tadashi, doesn't that...bother you? You don't have, sorry but, but personality. You should want things for yourself.'

And now...he couldn't seem to twist tongiht in a favorable light, couldn't view his progress as such. Because he knew once you slipped just below surface level, he wasn't any better.

He'd been sitting at the bar, staring at Suga's back, wondering what he was doing here. Who he was trying to be here.

Someone new, someone with passion? Someone that people would like?

Someone, he, would like?

And flip! There went the switch.

After that Yamaguchi had outmaneuvered the bartender into overserving him using a well-placed dimple and his shy smile. The key, he'd learned, was to appear to hold yourself back, clamp your mouth shut, act like you knew you shouldn't be doing...whatever it is you're doing. And then plead with your eyes. Your words and actions should have honest intentions, but any ocular misdirection, is...totally fair game.

Soon after that Yamaguchi's memory got foggy, progressively foggier in fact, until he reached that lovely precipice: the peak of Mount Blackout.

And with a self-satisfied sigh, Yamaguchi took a plummet off the summit.

He was relatively conscious, luckily, and able to stand on his own two feet. But his memory had punched the clock and gone to bed. A pity, too, that he wasn't able to capture anything else.

That he hadn't been able to retain the memory of meeting Terushima Yūji.

###

Yamaguchi, code name "Blackout", had drifted away from the bar the moment Ennoshita went to chase down Sugawara, murmuring something about 'stay right here' and then ambling his tipsy limbs in the general vicinity Suga had last been spotted at.

He had watched Ennoshita's dark silhouette move farther and farther from him, and within seconds he'd begun to wonder where Ennoshita had gone.

"Oh!" He jerked upright, eyes widening 'E went to the bathroom, didn't he? I should, I'll go after him. To the bathroom.' He nodded his head to himself, hopping off the stool and catching his balance.

As he walked along the lighted tile towards the glowing neon blue sign of a stick figure in pants, he became distracted by the tiles on the floor. Mesmerized, he placed one foot in front of another, mouthing to himself not to step on any cracks or he'd break his momma's backs.

Then he'd pushed the door to the bathroom open, stifling his laughter because he'd thought backs, not back...while drunk, the peak of comedy he was not. Not that he was particularly funny sober, either.

Actually?

He'd paused, rinsing the soap off his hands to stare into his reflection in the mirror. He lifted a hand to his cheek, slightly rubbing it, pushing the skin up, sagging it down.

He never was funny, was he? So why pretend. But he wasn't...this, either. This was all pretend.

He moved his hand to the ring in his lip, pulling at it even though it hurt, and wincing like it had caught him off guard. When really, he'd been the one behind it all. He was changing faster than he could keep up with, stunting his own metamorphosis with moments of indecision and sudden regression.

What...what exactly did that make him, then? Was he whoever he was trying not to be, or was he the distance he'd placed between who he was and who he wanted to be?

"Tsuki would know," he said aloud, and the guy standing at the urinals glanced over his shoulder. They made eye contact in the mirror and urinal guy immediately snapped his head back to mind his own business. Yamaguchi glanced back at his own eyes, frowning.

He hadn't talked to Tsuki in two months either. Hell, Tsuki was the very reason it had been two months before he could face, anyone.

And now here he was, facing anyone. Someone. Everyone, everything all at once –

Alone.

His gut dropped as he stared at his reflection and realized quite quickly that he hated being alone. He hated it, hated everything about it and not just physically alone because technically urinal guy was there – no, emotionally. Emotionally he was alone. Was that right? Is that what he felt?

"Hey, uh, other - the other sink's out, d'ya mind?"

Yamaguchi ripped his eyes away from the pit of internal crisis opening up inside the mirror to deadpan stare into the eyes of urinal guy.

Urinal guy glanced at the out of order sink, then at the one Yamaguchi was in front of, before his eyes landed, reluctantly, on Yamaguchi.

"Okay?" Yamaguchi said, frowning seriously like he was digesting the information "Well." he looked down at the sink he was standing in front of, and grabbed a paper towel, wiping his hands off. He tossed the paper towel at the overfilling trash can, perfect layup form, and watched it bounce off the trash heap and onto the floor.

"Ah, shucks," he winced, immediately getting over it and pushing the door open to stumble into the dark hall, to the left of a staircase. A huge staircase with a really soft angle, a low grade...

Yamaguchi blinked, realizing he'd been staring at the stupid staircase for a moment too long, and rubbing his eyes as he turned to press his back against the wall in the little hallway branching out from the main dance hall.

He stared down at his feet for a second and felt himself listing to the side. At the last minute, he kicked his foot out to catch himself, and in that moment realized

"Holy shit – oh, oh I'm drunk," he pushed his hands over his face "oh, not good."

He let his hands fall from his face, and a brilliant idea occurred to him.

"Suga," he nodded to himself, reaching into his back pocket for his phone "Su-ga." He blinked, shaking his head as he tried to unlock his phone. The Face I.D. wouldn't work, but he kept trying, trying until he caught the right angle and his home screen popped up.

"Suga," he repeated, trying to keep himself on track "Suga, Su..." he frowned "Suga's no help." He had the sense to recall that, at least, remember that Suga was probably going to be as far gone as him at the end of the day.

And Ennoshita should've been his second choice there, he should've popped into Yamaguchi's head next. But he didn't.

Instead it was that asshole.

"Tsuki?" Yamaguchi muttered, sliding over to their messages with the greatest ease of all; it was muscle memory to re-read their texts. He actually had the majority of them screen-shotted and saved to his camera roll too, so he didn't accidentally hit a button re-reading them in the messaging app. He...re-read them, a lot.

" 'S pathetic," he said out loud, staring down at the messages he couldn't bring himself to screenshot.

'Cant this friday I work'

''totally okay!! does saturday walk better?'

'*work omg :,)'

'Yeah I can go at 6'

'awesome! I'm making the reservation for Kei B)'

And then - psht. Static. Nothing. From three days ago on – complete radio silence.

And there was nothing he wanted to do more than to hop on the phone and tell Tsuki off, tell him to come pick him up. Brag about how he did, actually, have a passion, how he'd found one all on his own fuck you very much and he'd get good at it and... and.

And that's what stopped that call. Because what would Tsuki think? About...this. All of this, this fine mess. His mess. All of him.

Yamaguchi glanced out into the club and thought about Tsuki' s hatred for unnecessarily loud anything. It wasn't his fault, it just made him uncomfortable. Tsuki's disdain for the kind of music Yamaguchi liked when they'd first met - again, not a fault, just a preference. Something he'd been aware of for a long time.

Tsuki called him handsome that one time he'd shown up in a suit post-interview to celebrate at Tsuki's place.

Yamaguchi looked down at his jeans, the shredded knees, the tank top that ended halfway down his ribs.

And a lump rose in his throat.

He'd changed all right. But it wouldn't be good enough. He'd gone the wrong way. He was farther from Tsuki than ever.

He tilted his head up against the wall, blinking into the light as if it could stop the tears from manifesting. A fool's plan, really.

And as he stared up into the light, his shoulders shaking silently and the grip on his phone getting tighter and tighter, hands shakier and shakier, he wondered how he'd managed to fuck up everything so colossally that he'd gotten here. Alone.

The first tears of the night coagulated, weighing down his eyes until one broke free from the pack, starting down his cheek.

But as luck would have it, luck or maybe a deity smiling upon his unspoken subconscious prayer, he wasn't left to sit by himself with such thoughts for long.

"Hey, y'alright?"

At first he listlessly stared at his phone screen, ignoring the voice. He registered the words as having happened, acknowledged them. But who would say them? And who was that person talking t–

'OH, fuck – me?!'

Yamaguchi looked up from his list of pointless contacts to try and locate who'd been asking.

Once again, what a pity he was doomed to lose his memory.

Because the guy who had asked wasn't one you'd like to forget.

As soon as Yamaguchi looked up he met the most entrancingly apathetic pair of brown eyes he'd ever seen. The man's blonde hair was slightly disheveled, some of the longer strands hanging in front of his eyes until he raked them back with his fingers; fingers encircled by many different rings sporting various insignia, symbols, and characters.

His rings caught the light and Yamaguchi's attention, and he blinked to draw himself back from spacing out, wiping the tears from off his cheek to make an attempt for dignity.

That was when the blonde answered his own question – and when the apathy in his eyes was overpowered by something with duller edges.

" 'M okay," Yamaguchi managed, trying for a smile but having to duck his head down as more tears threatened to breach the surface. Lying was asking a bit much of himself.

The guy tilted his head, pulling his hands out of his pockets as he took a more curious approach to the situation, his interest piqued.

"Why so pouty freckles – are ya hurt?"

His tone had softened, damn him. It made Yamaguchi's eyes burn, until he wasn't even crying about Tsukishima anymore he was crying because of how sweet this stranger was being. Why? He...had no clue.

"N–," Yamaguchi cleared his throat, shaking his head "No, I'm f, fine." He mumbled, choking on his last word and blinking hard, raising a hand to wipe the newly overflown tears off his cheek. He watched as the guy inched slowly slowly closer, monitoring him like a CCTV recording.

"Then what is it? Are ya blitzed?" He asked, a smile betraying his cool composure.

Be it the phrasing, be it the timing – something about that question struck Yamaguchi as just...odd.

And despite himself he laughed.

It was a short, sparse laugh, barely a giggle, but it alleviated some of the tension so he could nod his head yes, turning to look up into the stranger's face.

"You tryin' to call your ride?" the blonde glanced down at the phone still clutched in Yamaguchi's hands, then back up to his face.

And with that whatever tension had been alleviated returned in full force, times two even.

Yamaguchi swallowed, bringing the phone up to stare at the list of names, so many names, all people he didn't know, stopped talking to, who didn't care about him...it was, it was a long list.

"I...can't," Yamaguchi tried to raise his voice, but the stranger ended up having to lean in as he'd appeared to have maxed out his volume "there's, no one."

Yamaguchi raised a hand after his voice crack, expectant of the coming tears, anticipating their warmth. But before he could brush them away, he felt a fabric pressed to his damp cheeks.

"Hey," the stranger had pulled the sleeve of his shirt from under his jackete, stepping closer to press it to Yamaguchi's face with an earnest compassion to his voice "don't cry, don't cry look – we can get you a cab, you know your address right?"

Yamaguchi didn't mean to, but the sudden kindness in the stranger's voice left him with no choice but to stare into his eyes, mesmerized by the tender kindness in them. He leaned into the stranger's hand, blinking slowly, appreciating the warmth.

"You know it?" The stranger repeated, nodding his head yes until Yamaguchi nodded his head along with him "All right. I'll trust that." His mouth twitched up on one side, flashing a crooked grin that was gone as soon as it came. But even just a second of that smile was impactful enough to burn its way into Yamaguchi's memory.

"Handsome."

The word had fallen out of Yamaguchi's mouth before he'd had the chance to think it through – not that he was doing much thinking, but. He reached his hands out, lightly gripping the collar of the stranger's jacket as the guy's eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and he brushed his thumb idly down Yamaguchi's cheek.

"Think so? You're not so bad yourself charmer," the stranger's grin returned, staying a little longer this time and for that Yamaguchi was glad "but you're in kind of a bad way to be sayin' all that."

"What?" Yamaguchi murmured, his eyebrows tugging together slightly as his eyes dipped down to glance at the stranger's mouth. He chewed on his lower lip, pulling at the piercing with his teeth as he thought about how pretty the stranger's smile was.

"Jesus," the stranger breathed out, stepping back and bringing his hand down to Yamaguchi's waist to gently tug him away from the wall "yeah, let's get you home before you do that to anybody else."

"Do what?" Yamaguchi asked, pulling himself closer by the stranger's collar. He wasn't cold or anything, but the man smelled like a mix between a familiar brand of cigarettes and a heavenly cologne he couldn't place but instantly wanted to be surrounded by "No, don't...I don't, want to leave. Not yet."

The guy drummed his fingers against Yamaguchi's waist, eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to figure out what Yamaguchi meant.

"Stay," Yamaguchi insisted, eyes falling back to the stranger's lips "please?"

"Oh, I dunno," the stranger said, "don't think I can do that."

"Just talk?" Yamaguchi offered, meeting his eyes, switching to non-verbal begging.

"See but that's the thing angel eyes," the stranger leaned closer, pressing his forearm into the wall besides Yamaguchi's shoulder "I'm not so sure if I could hold to that. So as much as I want to figure out what you mean by talk," the stranger tilted his head slightly to the side, pushing his lower lip out to display his disappointment "I think I'd better just help get ya home."

Yamaguchi had stopped focusing on his words, enraptured by the lips they passed through. One of his hands made its way up, his thumb boldy but softly pressing against the man's lower lip and skimming across.

"Please?" Yamaguchi repeated, barely audible even to himself as his heart kicked up louder than the bassline, his pulse quickening like he knew he was running out of time with the handsome stranger.

The man froze, his grip on Yamaguchi's back loosening in surprise.

And before Yamaguchi could glance back up to plead with his eyes again the man leaned into Yamaguchi's touch, closing the distance between them to press a kiss onto Yamaguchi's lips.

Yamaguchi didn't mean to wince, but the unexpected pressure against his piercing made him whimper, his lips parting as his hands slid up from the stranger's collar to wrap around his neck, needing him closer.

His mouth tasted like stale beer, like something Yamaguchi associated with a college party, a dimly lit basement or a crowded couch. Comforting, familiar. But whereas the taste of his tongue grounded him, the man's cologne overpowered him and combined with his rough lips left him dizzy, weak at the knee, all of the things a kiss should leave you.

The stranger's teeth found his lip piercing near immediately, closing to tug on it, then running his tongue over and into Yamaguchi's mouth when he gasped, coaxing him into deepening the kiss. Against his lips Yamaguchi felt another sensation – more metal, but not from his own piercing.

The implications of this realization caused his already flustered cheeks to heat further, and he desperately wished to feel the man's own piercing for himself, pushing his tongue to run down the stranger's.

The man's hand slid from the wall to Yamaguchi's neck, pulling his head in closer and tugging at the roots so Yamaguchi would tilt whichever way his finger directed.

Then, almost as sudden as he'd leaned in to kiss him, the stranger paused, pulling his face a whisper's distance from Yamaguchi's.

The air between them as they stood, foreheads pressed together, felt sweltering. Their mixed breathes, the synchronized heaving of their chests, created their own little atmosphere.

Yamaguchi wondered why they'd stopped, feeling frustration rise up in his throat. That was, until he felt the stranger's hand brush over a certain portion of his neck, his eyes turning from Yamaguchi's to glance down at, at what?

"Fuck,"

Yamaguchi's stomach flopped over, and he felt his cheeks heating back up at the intensity with which the stranger swore; it sounded like his frustration wasn't one-sided.

"This can't happen," the stranger brushed his thumb back and forth over Yamaguchi's neck, smoothing out...

The sticker.

Oh, right, the sticker.

"See?" The stranger pulled back, turning his head either way, showcasing his sticker-less neck before shooting Yamaguchi with another two-second grin "I don't have one. Wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me to take advantage of that disparity, huh freckles?"

"S-so?" Yamaguchi swallowed "So take advantage."

"J – woah, okay, Jesus," the stranger's eyebrows shot up "how...don't, don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Yeah," the stranger whipped his head to the side, glancing out into the fray and blinking to clear his head "we need to get you home before you turn those eyes on the wrong one."

"I –" Yamaguchi started to protest, but the stranger either hadn't heard him start to speak, or had decided to ignore him, stepping towards the dance hall again.

"C'mon," he slid his hand off Yamaguchi's waist to wrap around his wrist, pulling him along.

Yamaguchi complied, if reluctant at first. He grabbed the man's shoulder with his left hand, huddling behind him as he made his way back to the aisle in the middle of the dance floor.

The stranger's thumb stroked his wrist to reassure him as he led him between the staircases, out towards the back exit where people spilled out into the street under an awning, flanked by walls of ivy crawling down the massive pillars that stood just outside the club.

Yamaguchi glanced up at the ceiling as they passed under what looked like a fancy glass-and-chrome garage door, pulled up to allow free travel between the bar and the outside world.

The outside world.

The second they stepped out into the night, though still surrounded by people, the temperature dropped a few degrees and Yamaguchi took in a breathe of slightly cooler, more refreshing air.

His shoulders shook at the cold, and that was when he glanced down at his arms, frowning. Hadn't he had a jacket at some point?

"We can call you a ride from over there," the stranger slowed, turning his head to glance over his shoulder at Yamaguchi and cracking a smile when Yamaguchi bumped into his back "woah, steady," he released Yamaguchi's wrist, wrapping his arm around his back as he took a sharp right turn, headed away from the groups of chatting, laughing people dispersed around the outdoor area and down a more sparsely populated alleyway that met up with the main street.

Yamaguchi shivered the second he didn't have the collective body heat of everyone in the club to surround him. He turned his shoulder into the man's side, nestling his face in his shoulder when they came to a stop at the intersection of the alley and the main road.

"Tired? Or cold?" The stranger asked, glancing down at him "Cold, right? Teeny shirt's cute 'n all, but not very considerate of the elements." He unwrapped his arm from Yamaguchi, earning a confused frown "Hold up, just – " he pulled his jacket off, giving Yamaguchi a small smile "since I'm making an attempt at rectifying my previous conduct."

Yamaguchi opened his mouth to deny, to tell the stranger to keep his jacket, he'd be in the cab shortly after all. But the words wilted in his throat when he saw the shirt the stranger was wearing.

It was a deep v-neck that nearly reached the man's belt, unbuttoned to display a multitude of tattoos covering his stomach, his chest, all the way up to his neck. They all seemed to be their own individual pieces, but the linework was the same in thickness and the style was unique, suggesting the same artist had done them all. Even wasted Yamaguchi could tell as much; he'd gone to most of Ennoshita's first tattoo appointments.

Before he knew what he was doing, Yamaguchi reached a hand out, pressing his fingers to gothic script scrawled in a semi-circle over the man's navel.

The stranger said nothing as Yamaguchi admired his tattoos, fingers lightly passing over his skin. He threw his jacket over Yamaguchi's shoulders, securing it by tugging on the collar. He left his fingers there, staring down into Yamaguchi's face, observing his observing. That crooked grin made a reappearance when Yamaguchi was able to pull his earnest eyes from his body.

"They're so pretty," he said, awestruck and staring up into the stranger's eyes "are... you, you're real. Right?"

The stranger responded by tipping his head down, a few strands of hair falling back from behind his ears and into his face as he leveled his eyes to Yamaguchi's.

"That kiss not real enough for you?"

"Dunno, maybe I need another one. To be sure."

The man shook his head at that, turning to the side as he ran his tongue between his lips, pressing them together to stop himself from smiling. Smiling and, maybe something else. Yamaguchi couldn't be sure with his eyes turned away.

"How's anybody supposed to say no to anything you ask," The stranger wondered "It's no fair. Phone?"

Yamaguchi pulled his phone from his back pocket, handing it to the stranger without a second thought.

He slid it from Yamaguchi's fingers, tilting Yamaguchi's chin up with one hand as he held the phone up with the other.

"Smile," he said, pulling the phone back when the face I.D. unlocked "good boy."

Yamaguchi froze as the words hit his ears, and judging by the smirk that appear on the man's face he had noticed the neurons had stopped firing in Yamaguchi's brain at the compliment that was much more than a regular compliment.

"Y, yeah," Yamaguchi nodded, pulling the jacket tighter around his body and keeping his eyes on his phone, cheeks burning up despite the February chill carried by the breeze.

The stranger seemed unphased by the cold, opening up the rideshare app and pausing only when it came to choosing the destination.

"You've got a home location input already?" He noticed, glancing up to make Yamaguchi's eyes, the smirk widening before he'd even said what he was planning to say: "Smart boy too."

Yamaguchi's breathe caught, and he didn't have the willpower to tear his eyes away from his face even after the man looked back down, charting the course and blinking at the loading screen. He had an angular jaw, and he moved it side-to-side when he was concentrating.

The ink on his neck began to distract Yamaguchi, a bat wing curving up under one collarbone, a feathery bird wing under the other one. And sitting between them was a horned skull, done in red ink instead of black like the rest of his tattoos.

"Alright, you let me know if you see a silver Nissan with the license plate –" the guy paused, catching Yamaguchi staring at him "fuck it."

He leaned in to kiss Yamaguchi again, catching him just as off guard as he had the first time.

Yamaguchi responded by pushing his hands up the man's stomach, pressing on his abs up to his chest.

He pulled Yamaguchi in by his waist, pulling his lips away for a moment to shift his head, adjusting his angle, barely giving Yamaguchi time to catch his breathe before he went down again.

Yamaguchi caught himself about to sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as a wave of dizzy lightheadedness passed through his body, destabilizing his knees.

The man responded to his momentary weakness by holding him tighter, and Yamaguchi's palms slid up his chest to his shoulders under his shirt, lightly passing up his neck.

The stranger made a noise, somewhere deep in his throat, and the hum emboldened Yamaguchi to run a hand up into his hair, twirling his pointer finger and tugging.

The stranger's teeth brushed against Yamaguchi's lower lip, and he pulled back a millimeter to sink a bite into Yamaguchi's now-chapped lips.

Yamaguchi winced once again as his piercing flared up, the pain mixing in with the tingling sensation the biting brought on and confusing him beyond belief. The confusion worsened when he felt the stranger's lip pull up on the sides, smiling against Yamaguchi's mouth at the reaction he'd gotten before he pushed his tongue past Yamaguchi's swelling lips.

There it was again, the soft sphere that pushed against the side of his tongue. He had to remember to ask to see the piercing when they stopped. Not that he saw them stopping in any near future.

But Yamaguchi's phone began to buzz, and although Yamaguchi was content to ignore it, after the fifth ring the man pulled away, relaxing his grip on Yamaguchi's neck to glance down at the phone in his hand.

"This Chikara guy's persistent," he said, blinking down at the unattractive profile photo filling the screen "don't tell me he's your boyfriend."

"He isn't, it's a friend, he'll be fine," Yamaguchi insisted as the call dropped, tapping the man's chin. He glanced back up, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Yamaguchi's eyes until he decided either Yamaguchi was telling the truth, or he didn't care.

"I think he'd like to know where you're at, here –" the phone lit up with a text from Ennoshita "we'll tell him you're headed home."

Yamaguchi leaned into the man who reflexively held his arm out for Yamaguchi to duck under, pressing his cheek to his chest and watching the man type out a text to Ennoshita.

'gettib ina uber' the stranger sent, and Yamaguchi frowned.

"It'd look a little suspicious if you texted him like you were stone-cold sober, right?" The stranger explained, pausing for Yamaguchi to nod his head, resting his eyes for a moment while the stranger sent the text. 

The leather jacket radiated warmth and clouded his mind with the tobacco/cologne scent that he'd inhale with every breathe he took the rest of his life if he could.

Ennoshita didn't read the text for a while, and the stranger slid over to the rideshare app to screenshot the little button that said, 'your driver is: 0mins out.'

He sent the screenshot to Ennoshita, then closed the phone "Silver Nissan?" He glanced down at Yamaguchi under his arm as he stepped forwards, making his way towards the main street.

Ennoshita's ugly profile photo, taken from an angle under his nose, popped up on the screen again as they made their way out onto the curb, and Yamaguchi looked away from his obnoxious mood-killing fried to glance down the still bustling streets.

There were less people now than earlier, and their bodies seemed to morph together, bound by the blue light blanketing them in a sort of hazy mist that made him feel sleepy, disoriented. Or, that might be the drugs. 

"Looks like goodbye's waiting at the stoplight," the man commented, and Yamaguchi followed his gaze to a car waiting a block down, the neons reflected on the glossy silver body.

"You're not coming?"

"No," the guy shook his head, pivoting to face Yamaguchi as the car pulled up "pains me to say it, but you aren't taking me home," there again was that lightning strike smile, appearing, blinding, and leaving all in a flash "not this time at least."

The car pulled up, and the guy leaned past Yamaguchi to swing the door open.

"Hey, Kumiko?" He asked the driver, who nodded their head "Here," he handed Yamaguchi his phone, clicking on Ennoshita's display name to place an outgoing call "stay on the line, alright? Don't hang up on whoever he is until you're home," his eyes dropped down from Yamaguchi's to his lips for a brief moment "in bed," he brushed a few wisps of hair from Yamaguchi's face and blinked, remembering himself "got it?"

The call went through, and Yamaguchi nodded his head as the it connected and he heard Ennoshita's mumbling coming through.

"Good boy," the stranger said again, relishing in the blush that crossed his cheeks "you're too easy freckles. Hope you had a good night, definitely made mine." He pulled the door out even more as Yamaguchi's flustered face gave him away, his throat dry again and his vocabulary failing him when he went to find something intelligible to respond with.

"Wait, wait your jacket," he realized as he slid into the seat, the driver tossing a glance back at the two young men taking up precious rush time "you...you need – "

"Nah, keep it," the guy took a step back, starting to close the door " 'n take good care, that's my insurance policy you're wearing sweetheart."

He winked at Yamaguchi as he shut the door, smiling at him through the window as he turned back to the gym. Even through the slightly tinted window he was glancing through, Yamaguchi could see him raking his fingers through his hair, sticking his other hand into his pants pocket.

"Your seatbelt, sir."

Yamaguchi blinked, realizing they'd pulled away from the curb and down the street. The stranger wasn't even in his line of sight anymore, and he absently reached for the seatbelt and managed to pull it across his body.

He couldn't manage to push it into the buckle though, and instead he held it at his hip and drifted off in an ocean of thought, the gentle rippling surface of the sea reflecting those easily readable eyes and that electric smile...

"–up, Tadashi – "

He glanced down at the phone in his lap and saw the open phone call with Ennoshita. 

Oh, right. 

"Hey," he managed, holding the phone up to his ear with his available hand "how's...how's it going Chika?"

There was a drawn-out sigh on the other end of the line, followed by a moment of silence probably full of Ennoshita's prayers for patience.

"You're headed home, right? Tadashi?"

"Y – yeah, yeah and you can, stop with the Tadashi," Yamaguchi grumbled "' m not in trouble, or...less I am?" he leaned his head against the window, watching the cars whizz by. It turned his stomach, and he forced his eyes shut.

"No, you're not," Ennoshita conceded "who was that?"

"Who's what?"

"That, the, the guy?"

Yamaguchi frowned, looking at his driver "She's a girl?"

"No, no the – you're alone?"

"I just said, a girl's driving, I can't drive I'm...blitzed." He snorted, remembering the word the stranger had chosen "He's so weird."

"Who?"

"Who?" Yamaguchi asked, settling against the car door.

"Forget it, nothing," Ennoshita said, exasperation bleeding through the phone's speaker "I'm gonna stick around, let me know when you get home?"

"Yeah, yeah talk t'me," Yamaguchi yawned "we never talk any – hey, how are you?"

There was another brief pause, and when Ennoshita spoke again he sounded like he was speaking through a smile "I'm good, doing unpaid overtime taking care of two drunks who ran out on me for randos, but otherwise? Yeah, yeah I'm good."

"Ugh, assholes," Yamaguchi mumbled, shaking his head.

"Nah," Ennoshita laughed "they're alright."

It was anybody's guess how he made it out of the car and through the gates of his apartment complex, barely able to hold the keycard tucked inside his phone case up to the electronic keypads. 

True to his word, Ennoshita was on the line with him every step of the way. He'd stopped talking only after he'd been assured of Yamaguchi's security, bidding Yamaguchi goodnight when he'd made it past the security gate and inside the grounds of his apartment.

"Alright, I'm gonna try Suga," Ennoshita had said "though, probably he's just with Daichi. You good Yams?"

Yamaguchi was staring up at the stairway leading to the west entrance of his complex.

"Yeah," he lied, unable to comprehend how he'd make it up those stairs as the call ended "Yeah I'm good. I'm good," he said into his phone, holding it to his ear long after Ennoshita had hung up. 

But he managed; somehow, he managed. He got himself all the way up the stairs, into his apartment, allowing himself to collapse only once he'd reached his bed.

He kicked his shoes away with his feet hanging off the bed, reaching for the glass of water leftover on his nightstand. He gulped it down as he sent his vans flying to thud against his wall, slamming the glass down and gasping for air as he felt the liquid rushing down his dry throat, appreciated regardless of its lukewarm temperature.

He rolled onto his back, pulling his knees to his chest and his comforter up to his chin as his chest heaved, trying to regain his breathe in the dark room.

He blinked blearily up at his ceiling, then at his extended arms as he rolled to his side. He pulled the sleeves of the leather jacket up over his hands to wrap his fingers around them, and he smiled as he inhaled that smell of cigarettes and the stranger, nuzzling his nose into the jacket's collar as the time spent eyes shut between blinks increased. 

It had been a big night for him, and the rest was well deserved.

**Author's Note:**

> SO??? What do we think?? Appreciate any reads this gets, have a great night/day wherever you are!


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